Steps Like Fire
by Windflicker
Summary: Rivals they began and rivals they'll remain, every step of their Pokemon journeys. Leaf is determined to prove herself to and above Blue, and she won't give in to him - even if it hurts not to be a part of him. A FireRed story.
1. Prologue: First Encounter

**Prologue: First Encounter**

"Good luck."

Those two simple words, accompanied by the sharp, mocking glint in the boy's brown eyes, grabbed at my insides and twisted. Twisted, until I hung off-kilter from one side of the world.

That was the feeling that underlay the first moment we ever came face-to-face: like a key turning within a lock.

Grass rose around the two of us, licking at my shoes, as rays of heat sprayed down from the sky and battered against my back. My turquoise tank top was starting to stick to my skin, droplets of sweat bleeding through the fabric. I took a moment to marvel at how the boy seemed untouched by any of it, as if the armor of rich-boy clothes covering him from head to toe provided him with foolproof protection from nature.

Even back then, I knew what money looked like, and standing in front of him I could smell it all over his smooth, tanned skin.

I mustered the best smirk I could, trying to mirror the one that was laced across his mouth, forcing the corners of my lips to keep from trembling. Sand gusted in the dry air around us and kissed the tops of the green blades. This summer was as dry as my tongue, dry as the back of my throat.

The strange boy raked his fingers through his head of spiky brown hair and laughed again, the sun highlighting all the sharp angles on his chin.

I didn't understand. What was his problem?

"What?" His voice was nonchalant, but his eyes spoke otherwise. Pidgeot-like, they glittered like a gem in the dust as he watched me, the way a young child would watch a beetle bumble across a stick clutched in his hand, the way that amused smile would graze his lips as he stared at the jeweled wings trailing across the wood. "You really think you can be a trainer, don't you?"

"And w-why not?"

My voice wavered, a candle swaying in the breeze. I shut my mouth as his eyes lit up, sensing prey. I couldn't run and I couldn't hide; he still had my Rattata's tail clasped between his fingers, a huge catlike smile across his face growing wider by the second.

The boy kicked at a tuft of grass and crossed his arms over the front of his shirt.

"Why not, you ask?" he singsonged in a perfect echo. "There are plenty of reasons why not."

He dangled the words in front of me, daring me to ask.

I swallowed.

"Like what?"

He scoffed as I took the bait between my teeth, turning away with a wave of his hand. The first spark of anger ignited inside my chest.

"Oh, please. Don't tell me you don't know?" He turned back, smirk blazing full-force. "Don't tell me I really have to list every single one of them for you?"

"Be my guest," I snapped. I could entertain him if he wanted me to. It wasn't like I had to do anything else that afternoon. Mom wasn't expecting me back from school until four. I had time.

The boy sighed, dipping his head down toward his chest so that a tawny lock of hair swept across his forehead. He was milking every moment of this, I could tell. I wondered fleetingly why he cared so much about going out of his way to bother a random girl standing in the grass, but whatever. He was free to do whatever he wanted.

"Well, I'm sorry I have to be the one to tell you this, but you're not of the right…caliber."

I could tell by the momentary scrunch in his eyebrow that he wasn't sure if he had used the word correctly. Caliber. I remembered it from the worn pages of my spelling book—quality, competence. The thought that he didn't know it managed to break through the walls of dislike that had already formed between us and brought a smile back to my face.

So, this smooth, flawless statue of a kid didn't know everything, either. Hmm. It seemed that self-confidence, or in his case, arrogance, wasn't everything, no matter what they would have had us believe.

"I'm not, am I?" I asked, keeping my voice steady. "And you are?"

I was surprised when the boy looked seriously taken aback. He even did the whole dramatic thing and took a step back, his eyes widening and arms dropping to his sides. Grass rustled in the wake of his shiny black sneakers.

"You don't know who I am?" he demanded. "Me—well, you've had to have heard of me _sometime_! Or at least my grandpa!"

"Your grandpa?"

"Yes! My grandpa is the famous _Professor Oak_ who lives right here Pallet Town!" He raised a hand proudly to his chest. "And I'm Blue Oak, his grandson—soon to become the greatest trainer who ever lived!"

You had to cut him some slack, we were both only in fifth grade—but still. _I_ wasn't anything like that.

I couldn't help it. I gave him one look and promptly snorted.

Blue's smile immediately faded as he recrossed his arms and glared furiously at me, his hair bristling.

"Don't laugh at me!" he snapped. "What, and who are _you_? I come from a long line of great trainers—just _look_ at Gramps—it's in my blood to be great like them. _You_…"

The sneer was suddenly back on his face again, and he tucked his chin into his neck and scraped his shoe along the dirt, digging a hard line into the brown earth. Blue seemed to be mulling something over in his head as he stared at the ground. A moment later, when he looked back up at me, his eyes burned into me the same way.

It suddenly struck me that I was no better to him than all of the pieces of dirt that surrounded us, than all the soil and plants that lay underneath our sneakers.

Despite everything, my heart sank an inch.

"You shouldn't even dream of becoming a trainer. Who are you? What are you? I've never even heard of you at school. You probably have no friends, and you're definitely not talented like me." He flung his hair back arrogantly and prattled on. "I don't even know your name. And I probably never will."

He stepped closer and snorted back at me, returning in all its exaggerated glory the disdain I had given him a moment ago.

But as I stood there frozen among the blades of grass, my hands clasped in front of my waist, most of the laughter had faded from my chest. Suddenly, I didn't find it funny anymore that he didn't know how to pronounce "caliber." I didn't find it funny that his huge spike of brown hair was way too big for his (already inflated) head, like a wig he hadn't quite grown into yet. I couldn't even find a single bit of humor in the overly arrogant way he tossed his head, like a Pidgeotto preening its feathers—a little boy, who really believed that, like a bird, he could jump off the ground and take flight at any minute.

Blue allowed me one more sneer from his flashing eyes before he turned around and started to stomp away, his foot already halfway off the ground.

But, surprising myself, I leaned forward through the tall grass and snagged the edge of his sleeve in my fingers.

"_Leaf_," I spat at him.

I watched confusion flicker in his eyes as he grabbed my wrist with his other hand and tugged at the arm in my grasp. But he was pulling halfheartedly, barely struggling, as if he didn't really want to escape.

Suddenly, I wondered if Blue Oak was one of those boys who thought that all girls were fraidy-cats and weren't supposed to or just _couldn't_ be strong and brave. Was he holding back on purpose? The thought sent a hot streak of anger through my spine. Well, whether he was one of them or not, I would show him.

Clenching my fingers around his skin, I tightened my grip.

"If you wanted to know—well, forget that, _I _want you to know—that's my name. Leaf Green."

Blue's mouth was hanging the slightest bit open at my outburst. A tiny jolt of fear shot through me as the memory of his grandpa being _Professor Oak_ hit me again, but then I remembered his pride, his huge, stupid pride, and knew that he wouldn't be tattletaling to anyone. Least of all Oak.

Blue was the one who broke the tense silence between us.

"Geez—okay."

As I waited for his next move, he gaped at me as if I had grown a third head. I wasn't sure if he was terrified, shocked that I hadn't heard of him before, or just plain dumb. But the moment didn't last. Defiance blazed in his eyes, and he finally gave his arm a _real_ yank, letting out a loud grunt as he jerked away.

But I was done with him anyway. I relaxed my fingers around his forearm, releasing him and watched as he tumbled backward with the force of his own yank, steps clattering against the ground and forcing him out of the patches of grass.

When Blue righted his balance and pulled himself back to his feet, he turned back toward me.

"You're crazy, _Leaf_, you know that?" he said slowly, tentatively, eyes still probing my face. His footfalls pounded like a steady metronome as he backed away, one step at a time.

I let his question fall. "I _will_ become a trainer," I declared firmly. The smile was starting to return to my face, and I welcomed it, slow and warm like sunshine. "And you better not forget my name when I do."

"Yeah…whatever you say…_girl._"

Blue turned on his heel and ran, his feet pattering against the sand. I stifled a burst of laughter. Really? _Was_ he afraid of me in the end?

If he was, I knew he would never admit it. But I watched the boy named Blue as he ran, for any visible sign of fear. There he was, running back toward the lab where his grandpa would be waiting with all the latest equipment, with all his research notes and incubators full of eggs, with all of the important Pokemon he was researching. All while his little grandson ran free and amused himself by tormenting random girls who were waiting in the tall grass for something, anything, exciting to happen.

Not that it mattered, I mused as I watched the trim form of his back disappearing into the distance, his sneakers still clattering against the ground. I didn't know why he had chosen to come up and talk to _me_ of all people, but it didn't matter. He hadn't heard of me (unsurprisingly), and (more surprisingly) I hadn't been lying when I told him I hadn't heard of him, either.

I doubted I ever would again.

Blue Oak. What a strange, arrogant boy. I turned back toward the grass and jammed my hands in the pockets of my shorts, whistling, and scanning the green blades with my eyes for the sight of any wild Pokemon. I intended to keep my promise to him: I _would_ become a trainer.

As for Blue, I would probably never see him again. And I was quite all right with that.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note:<em>

I've done it!

I couldn't resist starting a chaptered fic about my current favorite characters and game-realm. And somehow, looking back now, my FireRed/LeafGreen story titles always have the word "Step" in them! A Step Ahead, Steps Like Fire... I guess it's because Leaf is always "a step behind" Blue in the way the game and Bulbapedia and everything describes it. XD

Well, anyway, I hope you enjoy! I love OldrivalShipping! Especially the game version. My vision of Leaf's personality is very different from Green's in the manga, haha. (Sorry, I call her Green, like in the English version.)

Please tell me what you think of this! Reviews are greatly appreciated. It's nice to hear what someone thinks of your writing. :) As always, thanks for reading!


	2. Heights Too Far to Fall From

_Years Later…_

**Chapter One: Heights Too Far to Fall From**

Screw school. You know what? I hated school.

Grumbling under my breath, I slung my bag over my shoulder and kicked open one of the double front doors to the expensive and oh-so-prestigious Viridian Academy—the place that, somehow, for some unknown reason, my mom had managed to worm her way into and found a place for me a few years ago.

There had been no arguing with her. You see, I had _wanted_ to stay at good old Pallet High where I had grown up, but Mom wouldn't hear a word of it. She had shaken her head and pursed her mouth shut and combed her fingers through her black hair, and told me in a clipped voice that yes, Leaf, I was _required_ to attend here. Didn't I know what a fantastic _opportunity_ it was for my education? I didn't want to end up like my father, did I—a failed Pokemon trainer who had tried to embark on his journey at the age of eleven and been one of the unlucky ones who had stumbled and been forced to give his Pokemon away and fallen, fallen in his career?

No, Leaf, you need an _education_ to get anywhere in life.

The edge of a folder clamped in my mouth, fingers fumbling at the zippers on the worn yellow fabric, I nearly tripped as I struggled to jam my notebook, swollen with loose sheets, into my bag. Yes, a wonderful, _wonderful_ education. The door pushed me forward, so I gritted my teeth and braced my weight against my legs, and, pressed against the metal, my skirt crumpled awkwardly underneath my legs.

As I bent down to adjust the red, pleated hem, the notebook somehow slipped out of my grasp and tumbled to the ground in a flurry of papers—papers that flew _everywhere_, flapping wildly in the breeze.

I let the bag fall to the ground and dropped my fists to my sides.

"Shit!"

A few people passing by turned to shoot me odd, alarmed looks. A curly-haired lass on the arm of some preppy guy wearing a shirt printed with an Onix—the mascot of our school—tittered loudly, but the rest of them didn't even pretend to care. They just trailed their eyes casually over the weird girl leaning against the doorway and continued on their way, chattering animatedly about (if the snippets I caught from their conversation were any indication) the latest party where they had gotten drunk out of their minds and when they were planning to do it again.

Here was the place where people believed in stationary wealth, and never in dreams the way Dad had.

It shouldn't have been much of a surprise to me that I didn't fit in at Viridian Academy. Most of the kids came straight from the wealthy suburb of Viridian City, where the school itself obviously was, if not the few who came from even richer cities like Celadon and Saffron.

On the contrary, everyone _I_ had grown up with was still ambling along the much smaller, nicer hallways of Pallet High, smiling and actually _speaking_ to each other instead of the cold way in which people here seemed to ignore the people whose names weren't clearly spelled out on their agendas in a curlicue of fountain pen.

Pallet Town—home of the heroes. Home of Professor Oak. Rumor had it that every Champion had ties to Pallet Town. When I looked at it that way, why Mom wanted me to leave such a town and send me to somewhere like _Viridian Academy_ didn't make much sense to me.

Crouched down, gathering the loose sheets of paper from the ground and stuffing them into various pockets of my bag, I didn't even care that my shoulders were brushing rudely past the crowds of people who flooded out of the front doors. The final bell had rung a few minutes ago, but I couldn't quite bring myself to give a damn enough to smile at them and mutter a quick "sorry" in their direction. Normally, I would have ducked my head and, bag dragging behind me, quickly scooted out of the way, but today, I really didn't care.

I would stand in their way like a paralyzed Geodude and ignore all their glares and frowns of disapproval as long as it took for me to jam all my stuff in my bag.

If only I had a Pokemon to Teleport me out of there, like an Abra. Wrong. Abras were pretty rare, and besides—only the rich kids had Pokemon. Pokemon their mommies and daddies gave them for Christmas, Pokemon who were nothing more than _pets_. At lunch, they released them from their Poke Balls, and their friends and girlfriends pored over them with high-pitched squeals and oozing, lipsticked smiles, manicured fingers stroking their fur.

One of the girls had even brought in a rare Pokemon from Unova one day—an Emolga, whose enormous eyes stared us all down as we struggled to digest the Berry sandwiches from the school cafeteria. The flying-squirrel-thing even looked at _me_, at where I sat at a table across the room with a few Super Nerds and Pokemaniacs I had managed to befriend. All of them choked on their sandwiches at the sight of the Emolga and coughed chewed-up bits of Cheri Berries onto their trays.

You would think a private academy like Viridian would have better food, but no—wrong again.

It would have been nice to have a Pokemon like that Emolga, or like _any_ of the other Pokemon that the kids brought in. I would have used them right, too. Not as pets—but as the real battling Pokemon they were.

It was in my blood.

But actually getting a Pokemon of my own? While I was far from _poor_, I wasn't delusional enough to think that I could by any means be called rich. Not nearly rich enough to buy a damn Pokemon from anywhere. A small-town girl from Pallet Town, who lived in a tiny two-floor house with only a living room, kitchen, bathroom, and two bedrooms…it was a wonder that Mom had actually been able to scrape enough money for me to go to school at the Academy.

It couldn't have been _Dad's_ money, that was for sure. When he came running home that night in sixth grade (when I was supposed to be asleep), I could hear the dark tears on Mom's face, her choked gasp at the low, hollow tone of the door swinging open, and the low, hollow tone of his voice as he took her in his arms and apologized.

I mouthed his name in the dark of my room—_Daddy_—but when I woke up the next morning, he was gone.

Since then, he had been forced to move to Sinnoh to help work with Roark in the Oreburgh Mine, or so Mom told me. He sent home a small pack of money whenever he could, but I knew from the tight line of Mom's lips whenever she came home holding the telltale envelope in her hands that it wasn't much.

Mom didn't like to talk about him. Or to him. And as a result, I hadn't seen him for years, not counting that night when I only heard his voice—not since second grade, when my last memory of him was a worn, whiskered smile and a Cherubi-shaped lollipop that he had placed in my hand with a pat on my white hat before turning and walking out the door, heading for Pewter City.

All I knew was that he wasn't a part of my life anymore, and I was fine with that. I hardly even remembered the man.

What I did remember, however, was his dream.

Whenever anything about training came up on the news, Mom always gritted her teeth and turned away from the TV and complained about all the stupid, idealistic ways in which Kanto's culture taught children to hope for something as outrageous as becoming the _Champion_. She had seen what those beliefs could do to a person. And whenever the dark look came over her face, I looked down at the wooden floor and knew for a fact that Dad had broken Mom's heart with his dreams.

I knew that all I could do was try not to do the same.

Even if it was there—the desire to roam, to feel foreign winds gusting on my face, for my feet to blaze across new paths—running through my blood.

So the hell of Viridian Academy it was.

For now.

* * *

><p>"Why don't you get out of the way and let other people pass by?"<p>

I looked up from my bag and gladly returned the sneer into the ice-blue eyes of the boy who confronted me, towering over me with a self-righteous gleam in his eye.

"Why don't _you_ go away?"

It was one of those times where I knew I was in the wrong, but I didn't care. Anger reared up inside me, and I let it take over. These jerks. It was _their_ fault I was in such a bad mood in the first place. Did he actually think I wanted to hang around any longer than I had to? What a joke. As soon as I finished putting all those damn papers in my bag, I would be up and out of this hell as fast as I could run.

"People here are actually trying to get by, and you're sitting here in the middle of the doors, blocking everyone's way for no particular reason us—what's your problem?" he ranted, crossing his arms over his preppy collared shirt.

"You are," I said lightly, not even looking up. "Please go away."

He still didn't budge.

"I'm going to report you to a professor if you don't move right now," he threatened. "You're really getting in everyone's way. This is a public disturbance, you know."

I snorted. Clearly he was spending too much time in his social studies classes, his perfect little button nose buried in thick books about law and order. "Go ahead," I answered, shrugging.

These rich, preppy kids—they thought they had every right to act pompous just because they could. I eyed his collared shirt and his shiny new shoes; he probably had a whole horde of Pokemon waiting for him at home who did all his dirty servant work for him and his family, cooking food and cleaning toilets while he came here and propped his feet on the desks. Pokemon who never had a chance to battle the way they were born to.

The boy opened his mouth, and then promptly shut it, his eyes flicking to the side with a sudden glimmer of fear. Confused, I followed his gaze.

I rather felt the shadow of the imposing presence before I saw it.

"Excuse me, is there a problem here?"

The voice was crisp, commanding, coming from a speaker who clearly expected respect—but there was something more to it. It was familiar. My hair swung over my shoulder as I pulled my hat above my eyes, curious.

I instantly swallowed the nasty anti-authority retort that had been licking at the back of my throat when my eyes confronted the broad-shouldered, gray-haired man standing over us, cloaked in a white lab coat.

_Holy crap._ What was Professor Oak doing out here in Viridian City?

His eyes widened with surprise when he saw me. Oak crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. "Well, well. Leaf?"

The preppy boy's mouth fell open. "You _know_ her?" he exclaimed, looking back and forth between us with equal amounts of awe and disgust.

"We're neighbors," I snapped at him, before turning back to the professor. Well, this made things a little more complicated. Thanks to my bad mood, I was on the verge of giving Preppy Boy the smackdown he deserved, but I wasn't going to pull that in front of the professor.

Honestly, out of all the positive role models I had to look up to…he was the closest to a hero that I had. A powerful Pokemon trainer in his day (unlike my dad, who had tried to be), and now a world-renowed professor who lived next door. It didn't really get any better than that.

"Hi, Professor," I stammered. "What—what are you doing here?"

"Hello, Leaf." Oak was still eyeing me strangely, and I remembered that I was crouched in the middle of the entrance. I hastily gathered the last few sheets of paper and stuffed them into my bag before dragging myself to my feet. "I came here to give a lecture about the relationships between human and Pokemon—but I'm a little surprised to see you here standing in the middle of the doorway."

I caught a glimpse of the smug look plastered across Preppy Boy's face and grimaced.

"Yeah, sorry about tha—"

"Professor, are you going to report her?" Preppy Boy primly cut across my apology. "She's been holding everyone up."

I clenched my teeth. _What a dick._

Oak turned his stern gaze on him, and the kid gulped and shrank back, his shoulders crumpling forward. Ha.

"Excuse me, Mister…er…"

"Thompson," Prep filled in quickly. "Joshua Thompson."

"Mr. Thompson." Oak nodded. He looked thoughtful. "Shouldn't you be getting along on your way home now? Though Leaf's actions were certainly very rude"—he eyed me, and I gulped at the intense, admonishing gaze of his dark eyes—"she's apologized for holding you up now, and moved so that the doorway is open for you to leave. So…" He gestured outside at the clear blue sky and the green trees swaying in the wind with a large, square hand. "Now you're free to go on your way."

Joshua Thompson blinked several times as the professor's words sank into his thick skull. I smirked. Finally, he muttered "Yes, sir" with a firm nod in Oak's direction and strode out the door, purposefully digging his elbow into my side as he passed.

Oak shook his head after the boy, a faint, faraway look in his eyes. "Young men like him…I certainly hope Blue doesn't turn out like him."

_Hmm?_

"What did you say, Professor?"

"Oh, never mind. I'm just an old man mumbling to himself." Oak smiled a crinkled smile and waved his hand. "How are you, Leaf?"

His sharp eyes examined my face, and the sunlight streamed down from the sky to highlight all the angles on his face. The sight sparked a surprising flare of recognition in my mind—they were angles I had seen once before in my life, somewhere, but I couldn't remember exactly where. When I didn't speak, Oak continued with a wry twist of his mouth. "I notice that you didn't seem to be very happy about…ah…moving aside."

Guilt bubbled up inside me and threatened to paint my cheeks with a red-hot flush. Momentarily, my knees remembered the grit of the pavement as I knelt in front of everyone, practically shoving them aside. I was such an idiot. In front of Professor _Oak_, in front of my _hero_, I had acted like one of the nasty, spoiled brats I hated—only with a temper problem and what seemed like a cynical hatred for all humans.

Which to some extent we probably all were, deep inside. I only could cross my fingers and hope that I was less so than everyone else at the Academy…the spoiled brat part, at least. The cynicism part probably needed some work.

"Sorry, Professor." I bowed my head, genuinely meaning it, or so the deep throb of guilt coating my throat told me. "I've…just had a bad day." _And a bad year. And a bad few years of high school in general._

I was surprised when through my curtain of chestnut hair, I saw Oak grimace in sympathy and incline his head toward me.

"Leaf…" He mulled over his words carefully, sharp eyes softening for a moment. I waited expectantly. He looked like he was on the verge of saying something big. "Do you miss Pallet Town?"

I looked up in confusion. Okay, now that was just anti-climactic. I thought Oak was a hell of a lot more clear-headed than that.

I gave him what a hoped wasn't a look of disrespect. "Um…I still live there, Professor." _Remember? I'm only, like, a house away from you?_

"Of course." Oak let out a dry chuckle and tugged at a few wrinkles in his lab coat, smoothing them out with his square fingers. "I'm not talking about the neighborhood, Leaf. I mean…" The thoughtful daze settled over his face again, rather like a shadow lifting from a clear surface. "The high school. Pallet High. If I remember correctly, you had a few good friends there, didn't you, Leaf? You and a young man named…Red used to play together in the pond, I think."

I nodded hesitantly—I missed Red and his quiet maroon eyes more than I could put into words—but I still wasn't sure where this was going.

"And your mother—it must be harder to see her when you go to school here, am I right?"

I flicked my eyes up in alarm. Coming from anyone else, a question like that would have sounded rude and more than a little bit inappropriate, and I would have taken an immediate dislike to someone who tried to pry into my life that way. But from Oak, whose obsidian eyes shone with a kind of dignified empathy that somehow conveyed _more_ than just feeling sorry for a bratty misfit, those words sounded like a show of respect, a deep, courteous bow.

"Yeah," I said cautiously. "It is."

Oak nodded. Most people would have been fidgeting at a conversation like this, I mused, a conversation that bordered dangerously on _personal_, but Oak stood as tall and strong as his namesake. He never broke eye contact, and he held his back utterly straight like the trunk of a tree, still and imposing.

I couldn't do that. I shifted my weight onto my other sneakered foot and swallowed, clearing the awkward fog from my throat, but the professor just looked me straight in the eyes and declared, "I understand, Leaf."

I nodded weakly back at him, barely managing to tear my eyes away from his. Discomfort rose inside me like a Sand-Attack of sorts, coating the inside of my stomach and my throat. Was that it? That exchange had been more than a _little_ uncomfortable—for me, and, I was sure, for him as well.

Sure, it was nice to be understood from time to time, but enough was enough. I took a few small steps forward from the door, ready to bid Oak a good afternoon and take my leave.

His next words shattered through the ground before I could.

"Leaf…have you ever considered being a trainer?"

I spun around, throat numb. "What?"

The hint of a smile grazed Oak's serious mouth. He didn't even have to take a step forward; I walked right back toward him, pulled irresistibly by the unspoken promise in those words.

"Have you ever considered the life of a trainer, Leaf?" Oak gestured vaguely at the grand hallways of the Academy around us. "I don't mean to sound rude, but you seem like you'd be happier on the road than…here." A glint of humor shone in his eyes, and I pictured young Oak, with those same eyes and square angles, pacing around these classrooms. Somehow, the image didn't fit. "Your beginnings, and you yourself—you remind me of past Champions from Pallet Town, Leaf."

Blood rose instantly to my face before I could stop it. Was it even possible to get a compliment higher than that? Was it? I didn't think so.

"And growing up here"—Oak's smile widened—"I'm sure you've heard that every Champion of Kanto has had ties to Pallet Town."

I nodded dazedly, unable to speak.

"It's in the ideals that the town holds, Leaf," Oak told me, his eyes glimmering like black fire. For a moment, I saw the fierce and terrifying trainer he had been in his youth—the trainer who had won many battles and almost become the Champion himself, who _would_ have easily, if he hadn't one day discovered a life that he loved even more. "It's in the lifestyle of the people, and its ideals, and, most importantly…its dreams."

The dark fire probed into my eyes of hazel, and it chilled me to the very core how his words echoed the ones I had thought to myself many times before so clearly—as if I could hear them, reverberating through a marble room. Many, many times when I remembered my father, broken and lost in a dark mine in Sinnoh, so different from the dream he had begun with—a dream of freedom, with the Pokemon he loved. When Mom criticized everything that he believed with that bitter grimace on her face, when she unwittingly lashed out at everything that _I _believed, I remembered how he had fallen from a greater height than any of us had ever even known.

It was my father's dream, it was Pallet Town's dream, and it was mine, too.

"Yes," I said hoarsely when I found my voice again. "I'd love to."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note:<em>

Yesss! Chapter One is done! Please tell me what you think. :)


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